


Do You Still Care?

by MissCrazyWriter321



Series: Comfortember 2020 [10]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Comfortember, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Panic Attacks, S3e11: Checkmate, Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27501271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321
Summary: "He lifts his head slowly, forcing himself to look at them, to see that they’re both okay: no blood, no injuries. Peter has a bruise forming on one eye, but all things considered, things could have been so much worse. And Elizabeth looks… Okay. Whole. But her eyes are red and watery, and his heart breaks. Elizabeth isn’t supposed to cry. She shouldn’t have to. Not ever."Sequel to "So What If I Care?"
Relationships: Elizabeth Burke & Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Series: Comfortember 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1996054
Comments: 7
Kudos: 64
Collections: Comfortember 2020





	Do You Still Care?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [So What If I Care?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26820409) by [MissCrazyWriter321](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCrazyWriter321/pseuds/MissCrazyWriter321). 



> Hey, everyone! I just finished Season Three and everything hurts, so I decided to go ahead and post this fic. I've gotten a bit out of order on Comfortember anyway, and Neal needs a lot of hugs.

It’s quiet in the apartment. Normally, he relishes any opportunity to be alone with his thoughts, but right now, with the distance between him and prison amounting to just a few short hours, the last thing he wants is to be alone. 

But where is he going to go? He can’t exactly call Sara up; what would he even say?  _ “Hi, I gave up the treasure, but also I’m going to give a full confession tomorrow; want to visit me in prison?” _ Mozzie’s gone to who-knows-where. June is fast asleep. And Peter…

He cannot even think of Peter and Elizabeth. Elizabeth could have  _ died,  _ and all because Neal couldn’t figure out what he wanted. 

No, that’s not true; he couldn’t  _ admit  _ what he wanted. Not until it was too late. Everyone got hurt because of it. Because he couldn’t admit that he’d found a home, a family, and he didn’t want to leave. 

_ He doesn’t want to leave.  _

His eyes burn, throat impossibly tight, and he drops his face into his hands, willing the world away. He’s not altogether sure if he wishes tomorrow would never come, or if he just wants it to hurry up and get here. The waiting is the worst part, he decides. Every tick of the clock reminds him that his time in this beautiful place is running out, just as it reminds him that it’s all his fault. 

_ Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.  _

Seconds pass, then minutes, but he doesn’t bother to look up. If he’s lucky, maybe he’ll open his eyes in the morning to find out this was all some sort of terrible nightmare. 

_ Nightmare.  _ He hesitates. Maybe he shouldn’t fall asleep. After all, when Kellar took Peter, he hadn’t coped so well. He woke up from a terrible dream in such a state that he broke perimeter without even thinking, desperate to check on him. That night wasn’t all bad-the Burkes had been warm and understanding, and as a result of it all, their home was exempt from his tracking alarm-but he doesn’t want to repeat it tonight. The last thing he wants to do is intrude where he can’t possibly be wanted. Elizabeth deserves to feel safe in her own home again, and he can’t imagine his presence there would help with that. 

And once again, he’s thinking of Elizabeth. Of the way his stomach dropped when he got the call. Of her house, and that terrifying moment where he thought the spilled sauce was her blood.  _ She could have died.  _ She could be  _ dead  _ right now if she wasn’t so terribly brilliant. If Mozzie hadn’t come through. If Kellar hadn’t trusted Neal just enough. 

It’s too much, all too much, and he can’t  _ breathe.  _ His pulse is pounding in his ears, and he kind of wants to scream, but he’s not sure he’d even be able to speak right now.  _ Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe.  _

A new picture flashes through his mind, of Elizabeth bleeding out on her floor, alone and afraid. Apparently he doesn’t need sleep for that, some distant part of his brain notes. He can imagine it just fine awake: the blood, the gunshots, the tears in her eyes- 

“Neal,  _ breathe, _ ” someone orders, far too close to his ear, and he wants to laugh, to scream, to tell them that is precisely what he  _ cannot do,  _ but he only shudders, pressing his face harder into his hands. 

Another voice chimes in, this one softer. Steadier. “It’s okay, Neal. You’re okay. You’re safe.” 

It’s not him they need to worry about. Elizabeth could be dead; someone needs to go check on her  _ now.  _ And he can’t, it’s not allowed, not anymore, but maybe these people can. He has to warn them.  With effort, he manages to force out a single syllable: “El…” It’s not enough-they won’t understand-they won’t-

“Yes,” the softer voice assures him. “It’s me. You’re okay.”

It takes a few seconds for the words to register, but when they do, he grabs onto them like a life raft, using them to pull him from the swirling sea threatening to pull him down. He knows her voice; that’s Elizabeth. She’s here. She’s okay. And the other voice-how could he  _ possibly  _ have not recognized him from the start?-is Peter. 

He lifts his head slowly, forcing himself to look at them, to see that they’re both okay: no blood, no injuries. Peter has a bruise forming on one eye, but all things considered, things could have been so much worse. And Elizabeth looks… Okay. Whole. But her eyes are red and watery, and his heart breaks.  _ Elizabeth isn’t supposed to cry. She shouldn’t have to. Not ever.  _

She offers him a shaky smile, and he slowly becomes aware of how close they both are: Elizabeth on one side, Peter on the other, each with a steadying hand against his back. “Hey,” she murmurs. 

_ Breathe,  _ he orders himself, and this time, he can do it. It’s not as even as he would like, and just a little too fast, but he’s breathing in and out, heart rate slowly climbing down. “Hey,” he manages. “Are you…. Okay?” Stupid question. She’s crying; of course she’s not okay. “I mean, what-” What’s wrong? That’s definitely worse. She was  _ kidnapped.  _ “I mean… I’m sorry,” he finishes weakly. It’s overdue, and incredibly true, but it hardly makes up for what she went through. 

Her brows furrow, and she fixes him with a look he doesn’t quite like. “What are you sorry for?”

She’s going to make him say it? He can hardly catch his  _ breath.  _ But he owes her this, so he clears his throat. “For-the paintings. For Kellar. For what he did to you. For-”

“Stop.” Oh, she’s  _ furious  _ now, and he deserves it, but it still cuts right through him. He tries to duck his head, meeting her eyes suddenly unbearable, but she catches his chin, forcing him to look her way. “What that monster did to me was  _ not  _ your fault. Do you hear me?”

He doesn’t, at first. He hears her voice, hears the anger behind it, but it takes several seconds for the words to click. “But he never would have taken you if-”

_ “He  _ still took me. Not you.” She softens a little, releasing him, and chuckles weakly. “Should you have told Peter about the paintings? Definitely, yeah, but… You were protecting Mozzie. I understand that.”

“Yeah,” Peter chimes in quietly, and it doesn’t quite sound like forgiveness, but it’s something. Maybe, combined with what Neal’s going to do tomorrow, Peter won’t hate him forever. Maybe he’ll write him once or twice while he’s locked up. 

Elizabeth moves her hand from his back to his arm, squeezing gently. “I’m not upset with you, Neal. And I sure don’t blame you.” 

It’s so much more than he deserves, and he closes his eyes briefly, trying to let it sink in. Then he looks up at her once more. “But you’re crying,” he whispers. 

Something in her expression shifts, pained. “Of course I am. I just found you having a panic attack on your couch.” She doesn’t release him, and he’s so grateful; her and Peter’s hands might be the only things holding him together right now. “I don’t like it when you’re hurting.”

He pauses, considering her words, awareness finally starting to truly flood back in. “Wait, how did you guys get in here?” His door is definitely locked, after all, and he didn’t hear them come in. 

“June let us in.” Peter clears his throat, patting Neal’s back hesitantly before pulling away. “Said she was worried about you. You weren’t answering her when she knocked.” 

_ Wait, when did she knock?  _ He glances over at his clock, and his eyes widen. How long has he been sitting here? A couple of hours have apparently gone by without him noticing, and his stomach drops. Now that Peter and Elizabeth are here, he’s quite sure he just wants this night to last forever. “Didn’t hear her.” He tries to play it off as just one of those things, but he doesn’t think either of them are convinced. “But what are you guys doing here?”

A heavy silence passes between them, as Peter and Elizabeth exchange looks. Finally, Peter sighs. “We knew you’d be worried about Elizabeth. And we knew you wouldn’t come to us this time.” 

_ After everything I did? After the paintings, after Kellar, after-  _ A few tears slip down his cheeks, and Elizabeth settles on the cushion beside him, wrapping her arms around him. He can’t bring himself to do anything other than sink into the hug, burying his face in her shoulder. After a long moment, he feels a firm hand on his back: Peter’s, he’s sure. 

“We’re here, Neal,” Peter promises, surprisingly gentle. 

“We’re okay,” Elizabeth adds. “Everything’s going to be okay.” 

And tomorrow will get here all too soon. He’ll have to give all of this up. But for the moment, he’s going to stay right here, holding on for dear life. He’s done a lot of terrible things in his life, and he doesn’t deserve this gift, but they’re giving it to him, and he’ll remember it for the rest of his life. This memory right here will be enough to hold him together for however many years he spends in prison. Because right now, if only for a few hours more, he has a family. 

**Author's Note:**

> .... Aaaaand then Neal fell asleep, Peter and El tucked him in on the couch and left, and Neal went up to see Peter at work. Neither of them mentioned the night before-they both preferred it that way-and the rest of the episode proceeded as we saw. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
